


Hot Summer Night: Mid-July

by starfleetdicks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Ephebophilia, M/M, Pre Season/Series 01, Safe Sane and Consensual, Summer Romance, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks/pseuds/starfleetdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has no right being at this party, picking up this sunny and eager stranger, and taking him up to an empty bedroom. He can't resist him. Derek wants that happiness for himself, even if it's just for the moment, a simple fling or a one nighter. Call it what you will. Stiles doesn't look at him with pity; Stiles doesn't know him as the Hale orphan. It's so refreshing, it's like staring into the face of the sun. Blinding and perfect. </p><p>Just for this moment, Derek wants it. </p><p>A pre-season one piece which means that Stiles is underage (though Derek isn't immediately aware). Everything is consensual, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Summer Night: Mid-July

It’s rough and stumbling. Derek has the feeling he somehow snagged the virgin at this party.

The body under him writhes enticingly like the man was born to seduce. But it’s obvious from the sharp tang of fear, excitement, and adrenaline to the way he grips at Derek’s jacket and fails to tug it off with his flailing movements. It’s endearing and Derek hides his smirk against the stranger’s throat, scraping his teeth over it, gripping the slim hips under him, and grinding down hard. There’s a gasp at his ear and it’d be painful if it wasn’t for the deafening surge of both their bodies’ pumping blood. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” is the next thing Derek hears. Long fingered hands that he’s already fantasizing about push at his chest. He sits up immediately, giving the flushed man a moment. 

“Too fast?” He asks. And from the flutter of the man’s eyelashes and the instinctive cant of his hips upward, he guesses his voice is already gruff with arousal. 

There’s a long moment of composing before the stranger blushes and settles on a cock-sure grin that Derek can smell is a total fake. “What name am I supposed to be screaming? Hot leather-clad dude just doesn’t flow.” Those hands are sliding over Derek’s shoulders and he catches them at the wrist, squeezing gently. He wrestles with the decision to give away his name. He’s not exactly unknown anymore, hasn’t been for almost ten years. 

“Derek.” 

There’s no widening of the eyes, no hitch of recognition in the man’s breathing, no stutter of his heart in shock, and Derek’s grateful for it in a way that makes him breathless with want. He’s so over pity fucks and gentle murmurs of how it’ll be okay. “Derek,” the man says instead, tasting it on his tongue, trapping it in his grin. This one smells real. “I’m Stiles.”

Derek pins those lean, almost too skinny wrists down over Stiles’ head with one hand. There’s a shaky laugh from Stiles and Derek leans in to catch it, transfer some of the bubbly happiness to his own starved soul. Against his lips, Derek whispers Stiles’ name in return and smiles, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Stiles, huh? What’s a Stiles?” 

“Nickname,” Stiles gasps, trying to rock back against Derek again. 

A nickname. Derek doesn’t ask for more than that. 

This ray of sunshine will be fleeting. 

With deft fingers, he unbelts Stiles’ jeans and manages to work its button and zipper open. There’s a hiss from Stiles and a desperate shimmying of hips that goes straight to Derek’s stomach and coils low, hot. He’s loathe to let those tantalizing wrists go and somehow between Stiles’ hips and Derek’s free hand, they get his pants and underwear down just enough. 

And then Stiles seems to remember where he is and Derek can read the nervousness on his face. The minute Stiles opens his mouth to worry-- and because Derek is sure he’s gonna ask something embarrassing-- he wraps his hand around him, giving one lazy stroke. Whatever Stiles wanted to ask turns into a garbled moan and Derek can’t help but chuckle. 

“Attractive,” he mumbles to Stiles’ chin, the man’s head thrown back and neck taunt. Those nimble fingers curling and uncurling spur Derek on just a few more lazy caresses over Stiles’ cock but he pulls away, releasing those hands. A desperate whine issues from Stiles as Derek hops off the bed and raids the bedside drawer. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You’d hate me if I sat there and jerked you off with no lube.”

There’s a knowing wince from Stiles that Derek catches in his peripheral and he outright laughs, can’t hold it in. Stiles flails his hands and covered his face. “Oh my god, shut up! Why are you laughing?”

“That face you just pulled. You’ve fucked up before, haven’t you?” 

“Yeah well, fuck you, it was the first time I had tried masturbating and friction is way more painful than I thought, okay. I haven’t made that mistake since!”

“Almost just made that mistake.”

“Your hand was on my dick! I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

“No, definitely not straight.”

“Did you just make a gay joke?”

Derek plucks the lube out of the bottom drawer with a triumphant flourish and ignores the look on Stiles face as he tries to fathom the joke Derek just made. Does he not look like the joking type?

“And you’re ignoring me! Excuse me, mister sassy pants.”

He rolls his eyes at Stiles and shoves at his shoulder. Stiles lies back obediently and Derek’s happy to see he’s barely wilted during his search and their banter. He reaches forward, standing the lube up on Stiles’ sternum. “Don’t move,” he commands and Stiles’ body seems to go rigid immediately. His ready submission makes Derek’s body sing and he shoves down the want to rut and fuck Stiles. 

He closes his eyes, breathes deep as he undoes his own jeans and slides himself free of his underwear. He doesn’t undress and doesn’t entertain the idea of getting Stiles’ jeans any farther off either. 

It’s a summer fling. Stiles deserves someone more permanent for his first time. 

Derek opens his eyes to Stiles straining to keep still and all his attention fixed on Derek. He should feel embarrassed but it just eggs him on. He carefully settles on the bed, tugs Stiles’ legs on either side of him, and leans forward enough to rub their cocks together. The sharp arch and groan from Stiles wears on his control. He presses his hand to the pale chest and forces him back to the bed, snatching the lube up before it can topple beyond reach. 

He’s got them coated and a hand wrapped around them both before Stiles can catch his breath. 

“Oh, damn,” Stiles swears softly, trying to blink through whatever he’s feeling. Derek thrusts into his hand and hard against Stiles and there’s another beautiful, mewling moan torn from that throat. “Derek,” he begs, reaching down. His fingers brush over Derek’s knuckles before settling, trying to speed him up. 

It doesn’t take much more begging. Derek is already on edge. He buries his face against Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply. Stiles’ free hand grips Derek’s jean-clad thigh as tightly as humanly possible.

Together, they find a too fast, too wild rhythm. 

Summer passes in the blink of an eye.

Derek doesn’t see Stiles again until he’s trespassing on his property in the fall. He’s frozen, for a second too long, by the sight of him. It strikes him now, how young he looks as Stiles jabs his friend to get his attention. Derek wonders how he didn’t notice then, how he didn’t realize his mistake. He steels himself and walks to them, warns them off the property, and tries to ignore how readily Stiles speaks to him. Does he remember? Derek has to will himself not to care. Stiles is young, too young. Derek won’t make that mistake again. He won’t ruin this one’s life. He takes one last look before he turns away.

“Dude, that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family! They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

“I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Derek hates it sometimes, the abilities. It’s a curse, he swears to himself. He can’t ignore what he hears though. It doesn’t fade away no matter how quickly he walks. Stiles scoffs and urges his friend to leave with him and Derek feels it in his bones now. No one knows why he’s back. He doesn’t even know. Derek shouldn’t want to be here, where everyone pities him and there’s a cold distance in every encounter, like death is a catching thing and he’s a carrier. 

Those few sentences buzz around in his head, pester his mind. He wonders uselessly how Stiles knows now. Did he try to find Derek after? Did he find the shell of a home instead? A spark slowly dying? And now Stiles is infected too, with pity and distance. He’s a couple hundred feet away and Derek can still smell him, feel his body heat like a burn. 

A ray of sunshine will always be fleeting.

**Author's Note:**

> A feel better ficlet for my friend, Umbralillium. She requested a Derek/Stiles summer fling. 
> 
> Title inspired by _Young and Beautiful_ by Lana Del Rey. 
> 
> Ending scene inspired by the reactions of Stiles when [Scott and he first meet Derek in S1E1.](http://youtu.be/wK6CjKRyasQ?t=1m17s)


End file.
